


down for the count

by radicallyred



Category: Marvel
Genre: Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 22:11:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18375083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicallyred/pseuds/radicallyred
Summary: Tony gets into an accident.





	down for the count

**Author's Note:**

> i am not a doctor. I know next to nothing about doctoring, so any of the information in here is wrong, my apologies. I did what little research I could quickly.

Steve Rogers is irritated.

He's been stuck in a training session for over 5 hours listening to the new recruits bitching and moaning about the heat, and if he’s honest, he’s tired of watching them run laps whenever Fury gets mad. He checks his watch as they seem to wind down. 2:30. Good. They’re done.

He really just wants to get back to the tower and see Tony. He wants to lay down on that couch across from the big window and close his eyes as he puts on a vinyl, maybe convince Tony to join him. His phone has been ringing incessantly in his pocket, vibrating fiercely enough to curious looks from his colleagues, and he'd ended up turning it off completely when Fury threatened to crush it. By the time they’re dismissed and he was able to step outside to turn it back on, he has 15 missed calls and 3 missed texts from Pepper Potts.

And, curiously enough, none from Tony.

In fact, he realizes suddenly, he has nothing from Tony, not since right after he left the tower this morning. His stomach goes cold, a heaviness settling in his gut and when his phone quiver's to life seconds later, he picks it up on the first ring.

"Pepper? What’s going on?"

Steve almost never calls her by her first name, so he can hear the woman take a deep breath on the other end. "I wanted to talk to you before you heard about it somewhere else. I don't know if you have, but I assure you, he's going to be fine..."

He turns abruptly toward one of the exits, beginning to make his way out of the facility, his free hand already in the pocket of his uniform for his keys.

"Tell me where, I'm on my way."  
\-------

The first thing he registers is the brightness. The pure white flare of the fluorescent bulb above him makes him wince in his groggy state. He pushes back into the pillows, attempting to turn onto his side to shield himself from the light, but he finds his body somewhat unresponsive, dulled by sedatives and painkillers. 

Oh, but there is _some_ pain.

He groans out loud, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels like he's been hit by a Mack truck (in actuality, it was a Prius). He forces his eyes open, blinking slowly a few times before his surroundings begin to come into focus. Everything is white. There is a beeping. And the smell...  
He swears aloud as everything crystallizes and he realizes where he is. He does everything he can to push past whatever is in his system as he tries to rise up and out of the bed, objecting audibly. He feels a hand on his arm, a hand on his shoulder, a hushing voice that is trying to calm him down but he's not feeling very calm because not a hospital, _never_ a hospital...

"Tony, STOP, you're gonna bust your stitches!"

Pepper's voice stops him in mid-flail and he stills in place for a moment as he gets his bearing. Pepper. Not Steve. Pepper is still his emergency contact. He needs to fix that.

“Where is Steve?”

“He’s on his way.”

He allows her to lower him back toward his pillow, let's her pull his blanket up over his hospital gown and she looks down at him with something like pity as she gets up and pours him a glass of water.

"What time is it?" He asks softly. "How long have I been out? What happened?"

She hushes him gently, handing him the paper cup and telling him to take it easy. He sips at it slowly and, finding himself parched, downs the rest in a gulp. When he licks his lips, the copper taste of a fresh formed scab follows and he makes a face. Pepper has the audacity to smile a little.

"They told me it looks a lot worse than it is, but don't worry, you won't scar." She nods toward his face. "It's almost 4. You've been out all morning and afternoon, but I guess the anesthesia is wearing off."

"Anesthesia?" He gapes at her and she nods in response.

"You were crossing the street and some asshole who was texting hit you with their car. They weren't going very fast, thank goodness. But you did get thrown quite a ways. You have a broken wrist, concussion, ruptured spleen, hence the anesthesia, 2 broken ribs and bruising everywhere. But other than that, you're fine."

"Other than that." He bites. He throws his head against the pillow, arching back toward the ceiling. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Yeah." She nods, sliding back into the chair beside him. "He's gonna be pissed when he sees your face."

He groans again, sliding his hand to grab his hair at the crown. "Thanks for that. Thanks."

He looks down at his body. He can feel where the gauze bandage is affixed under his gown near his ribs (broken, he notes, and attributes the dull throb to that) and he rolls his eyes, thinking of all the aftercare bullshit he's gonna have to deal with, and mostly, how up his ass Steve is going to be, and not in the fun way.

He hears the door to the room open and a woman walks in in scrubs with a iPad, a tired smile on her face. "Mr. Stark. I'm Amy, I'm your nurse for this shift. How are we feeling? The pain okay? You need the drip adjusted?"

Christ alive, he has an IV and everything. He closes his eyes with a shake of his head. He wants the needle out of his arm. This was ridiculous. They had taken him to surgery, they had patched him up. Yeah, he didn't feel great, but he would rather feel not great in the comfort of his own home. There, he could just stay all doped up on some pain pills and he would sleep for a couple of days straight-Steve would insist on it-and he could maybe be back on his feet by Monday, if he were lucky.

"Alright then. Let me check your incision real quick."

He suffers through the indignity of being manhandled by a stranger without much fuss and as she draws the gown back down, hums a noise of approval. She pokes around on the tablet a few times until she confirms his check up for the afternoon, and hugs the device close to her chest, smiling brightly in an overly cheerful way that irritates him, but he knows that's kind of her job, so he holds back.

"We're good for now. I'll be back in a few hours to check the drip again and everything."

"When can I go home?"

"You're gonna need to ask the doctor that, but honestly, probably another day or so. They'll just want to make sure that's healing alright, but getting your spleen out is relatively routine and everything went just how it should. She'll want to talk with you about what to look out for, what to do, how to change the dressings." She nods to Pepper with a smile as well and turns to leave before stopping herself as she gets to the door. “The doctor will be in shortly as well to give you the rundown of everything. Make sure to buzz me if you need anything, okay?"  
She waits for him to nod before she leaves. He doesn't hear the door close.

A woman in a white coat walks in before he and Pepper can say anything to each other, holding what is probably the same tablet as the nurse had. She assessing the information, nodding slowly, muttering under her breath and finally looks up at him as if she's just noticed he's in the room. "Mr. Stark. Welcome to GBU."

"Pleasures all mine." He responds dryly, shifting in the bed so he crosses his arms. She humors him with a chuckle.

"I want to get the shop talk out of the way. Are you alright with Ms. Potts hearing all this now as well?"

"She can stay, she knows me better than me at this point."

"Alright. We have two broken ribs, a broken wrist, contusions throughout the body, a concussion and a ruptured spleen that was removed at 10:25 this morning. As long as your incision site stays clear of any signs of infection, I wager you'll be on your way home by Sunday. We'll send you with a few prescriptions and have Pepper here makes sure you don't re-injure yourself.”  
He's burning with embarrassment, a dirty look on his face as he looks between the two. He knows the doctor won't be able to tell, but Pepper is holding back a laugh. They're close enough now, and they've known each other long enough for her to know how much this is going to irritate him, and it seems to be giving her boundless amusement, especially since in the end, she won't be the one to deal with it.

He looks back at the doctor, who is motioning at the doorway. He hears it open a little more, hears the swish of a curtain being pushed aside, and he hears footsteps too heavy to be the nurse who was just checking up on him. He watches as Steve slides into view, looking at the doctor, at Pepper, anywhere but at the bed where he currently lay.   
Steve looks depleted, drawn, like he's been up for 3 days straight and is barely standing from exhaustion. He keeps his eyes on the doctor, because she begins talking about work and not letting Tony push himself and that he will make a quick and full recovery if he rests like he should. Steve is nodding with spirit, and Tony knows that regardless of what the doctor was saying, his exile from everywhere but their wing of the tower is already planted in Steve’s head.

Pepper rises from his side with a squeeze to his hand and a sympathetic glance. "I have to get going.” She says softly.

"Are you going to be alright with him, Captain?” The doctor asks. Steve nods, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"I can handle Tony." He speaks for the first time, tone placid, without any implication that something is amiss, and the Doctor nods, seemingly content with the answer. The doctor hurries out, Pepper following slowly behind, and he's pretty sure he hears the distinct sound of the lock being pushed in before the door closes. Steve has moved over to the narrow window in the corner, looking out over the city, his left side facing the bed in the middle of the room.

"Steve..."

Steve holds up a stiff hand, and Tony can see his Adam's apple working in his throat as he blinks against the sunlight. After a few seconds of silence, the hand curls into a tight fist that falls to his side as he turns to face him, meeting his gaze for the first time.

"Tony."

His name is uttered in a whisper, a shuddering breath that seems like it's been held in for hours. It's made up of both fear and relief, and his expression is pained beyond anything Tony is ever okay with seeing on that face. Steve's hands are both clenched at his side, and his entire body seems coiled tight, barely restrained.

This is because of him.

"I'm sorry." And, God, this is fucking pathetic. He’s fifty years old, damnit, why is he crying over the fact that his boyfriend looks tired?

"Tony, no." Tony hears him walk toward the bed and he feels the shift in weight towards his left side as Steve rests against it. "Baby, it's alright, I'm here." Steve responds softly. He pulls himself close to Tony's side, pulling the younger man's good hand from his face and threading his fingers through it. His free hand ghosts up along the bruises and scrapes all up his jawline, barely caressing them with a hiss. "Oh baby, your face..."

"I know, I'm sorry. I’m fucked up..."

"Tony, I'm not angry. And this isn't your fault." He reassures with a gentle hush. "That young man was texting while he was driving."

"I was definitely in the crosswalk when I shouldn’t have been.”

"Be that as it may..." He trails off, not taking his eyes off of him. Tony finally allows himself to meet his gaze fully, and his stomach flips like he's on a roller coaster to see his lover's eyes shining.

"Steve, I'm okay."

Steve doesn't respond, doesn't seem to be able to. He just closes his eyes, swallowing a few times intermittently, deep, shuddering breaths before he brings Tony's hand to his mouth. He presses a kiss to the knuckle of his thumb, working his way up to the knuckles of his fingers, just holding his hand there against his lips. When he speaks again, rubbing his thumb now along the trail of kisses, he doesn't look up at Tony.

"Pepper called me so many times and I didn't pick up until the Fury dismissed us. And when she spoke, even though she told me you'd be fine, I just..." He shook his head. "You scared me, Tony."  
Bruising be damned. He lifts Steve's hand, strong and stable and safe, to his face and presses it against his cheek, turning to kiss it's heel before letting it rest. Steve curls his fingers in the strands of hair there and Tony lets himself relax for the first time since he woke up.

"Will you lay with me?"

His voice is so small, he would usually be embarrassed, but this reaction has kind of made this whole thing a reality. He got hit by a fucking car. He could have fucking died. He's always been so reckless, ever since his mother died, living like it was all on borrowed time, through binge drinking and Afghanistan, NYC and Malibu, Iron Man, all of it, because it just didn't matter.   
He scoots to the far side of the bed as Steve stands and slides in to join him, molding his body to Tony's, arching his arm around his side. Tony realizes for the first time that he’s still in his Captain America Uniform. "Am I hurting you?"

"No. I don't care."

"Tony, your stitches..."

"I'll tell you if you get too close." He promises, and he would be embarrassed at how he sounded if not for the day he'd had. He may have been flippant and fiery 10 minutes ago, but the weight of the day's events reflected through Steve had changed that.

He was scared too, he realizes somewhat in surprise. He had never allowed himself to be this close to someone, to need someone the way he knew he needed Steve, had never allowed himself to be the one who was needed. Usually by this point, he'd have done something abhorrent enough to drive them away. But this was different than then. Different than Afghanistan. He feels Steve's arm tighten snugly around his midsection, and bring his left arm down intermingle with it, grasping his hand once more.

It mattered now.

"I'm sorry I scared you." His voice is small. Steve nuzzles into the crook of his neck in response, kissing it softly. He can smell the man on him now, spicy, soapy, a hint of sweat and whatever _warm_ smells like (cause he swears it has a smell, it does).

"Just promise me you’ll be more careful from now on." He smiles as Tony snuggles into the pillow. "Only the sidewalk, far away from cars."  
Tony chuckles, shaking his head a little. Steve places a kiss to his temple and Tony leans into it, spooning closer to Steve's front, letting his fingers trail up and down his arm.

"You aren't the boss of me." He finally mumbles.

This earns him a dry chuckle, a heavy hand sliding to his waist. "Aren't I?"

Steve presses another kiss to his temple, and Tony melts more into him, closing his eyes. "We'll talk about it later."

He feels Steve laugh again softly as he drifts off to sleep, warm, and safe, and well loved. He barely hears the response.

"I'm sure we will."


End file.
